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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 17:56:52 GMT -5
When Grantaire returned to the house several hours later, it was with a stiff, slow gait. He was now grateful for the oversized shirt which hung loose from his shoulders and only sometimes stuck to his back in wet, pinkish streaks.
He entered quietly and went straight up the stairs to his borrowed room, closing the door behind himself securely and stripping painfully out of his clothing as he ran the bath full of cool water.
The drunkard sank into the tub with a hiss, biting his lip against the groan raised by the sting of the water on his raw flesh. Luckily his punishment for being late had not been as severe as he'd imagined, and he'd only suffered a single, long brand down the inside of one thigh, and it was fairly superficial. It would heal soon enough.
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 18:02:05 GMT -5
*Moving silently, surprising for a man of his size, he moved into the bedroom once he heard Grantaire get back and sat down on the bed. He waited expectantly for Grantaire to get out of the bath.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 20:00:26 GMT -5
When Grantaire had finished his bath, he carefully dried himself and pulled his borrowed trousers on, painfully over the long burn in leg. He would leave his shirt off for now to let the fresh whip kisses air and dry a bit before attempting to dress them. Thus clad, he came out of the bathroom with a sigh and a mind to lay out on his belly on the bed to rest and was face with his friend's grim look. Immediately his posture improved and he played off a smile.
"Afternoon."
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 20:03:11 GMT -5
"Let me see your back." *He said flatly, though not without concern.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 20:10:54 GMT -5
The smile fell and the little man's adamsapple bobbed with a thick swallow. He still somehow felt that Enjolras would be more disgusted and disappointed in him than any outside party.
"It's...it's really fine, Enjolras. Nothing deep or serious, and I can't feel most of it." It was mostly truth, at least. He had felt every lash, it had been more excruciating sober than it had ever been under the blanket of wine.
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 20:12:13 GMT -5
*Enjolras was unimpressed.*
"Turn around."
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 20:25:21 GMT -5
He clenched his jaw and did as asked of him, quite thankful that he'd decided to put on pants before he come into the bedroom.
His entire back was red and irritated, with a few temporary weals that didn't open up the skin of his back, and three deep gouges that ran diagonally from his left shoulder and disappeared into the tops of his trousers at his right hip. The wounds were ragged where they crossed over older scars, and they wept.
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 20:30:56 GMT -5
*Enjolras's facial expression was unchanged from the intense concentration that always seemed to reside on his features. He stood and walked behind Grantaire, close enough so that Grantaire could feel his breath on the back of his neck, but far enough so that he could examine the other man's back. He studied the weals, scars, and gouges, unmoving as a statue but for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. All was silent but for their breathing.*
*He leaned forward so that his face was near Grantaire's ear, but did not touch him.*
"Who did this?"
*It was a tone which demanded an answer.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 20:39:29 GMT -5
Grantaire swallowed again and clenched his fists.
"Just a client, Enjolras."
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 20:41:09 GMT -5
"Who. Did. This."
*His voice was low and deliberate. He still hadn't moved.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 20:49:34 GMT -5
"Comte du Morangias. Just leave it be, Enjolras."
He whispered, shivering at the man's closeness and his intimidating air.
"I don't have to go back again." At least, not for a couple of weeks.
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 20:59:45 GMT -5
*But despite Grantaire's pleas, the warrior of justice that lived in Enjolras, who had been dormant for so long, had awoken. Grantaire could no less stop a moving train than stop the godlike creature that dwelt within his friend. This touch of the mythological had given Enjolras wisdom beyond his years, a beauty beyond most of his race, and a passion beyond that of a common mortal.*
*His muscles tensed and his pulse quickened.*
"Morangias? Good. I know where he's to be found." *When he spoke, his voice was almost a growl.*
*He stepped away from Grantaire and turned as if to exit the room.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 21:14:48 GMT -5
Grantaire turned around and grabbed at his friend's arm, wincing at the too-quick movement.
"No! You can't. Just leave it be--at least for now. He'll be gone anyway, he said he had business out of the city. And his home will be...well guarded. And anyway, I need help dressing these..."
He hoped the last plea, at least, would buy him some time.
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Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 21:21:47 GMT -5
*Enjolras whipped around to meet Grantaire's eyes, his gaze burning bright, clear blue. He searched Grantaire's face for a few seconds.*
"I'll know when he's back, Grantaire. Society watches its elite." *He warned.*
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Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 21:26:42 GMT -5
He cursed himself for giving the man's name and nodded, dropping his hand from Enjolras' arm.
"He's not all bad. Just...don't do anything terribly rash."
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